A Dream of Smiles
by Luinramwen
Summary: A memory... a hope... a dream of smiles. Series of unconnected drabbles focussed on happier times. Up at last! Chapter Six: Snow.
1. Dream

**A Dream of Smiles**

-Summary- The world's most adorable manju bun gets his turn in the spotlight. Short, sweet, and fluffy, just like Mokona.

A/N – Mokona-centric! Someone had to do it. So I did, because Mokona's a sweetie. And I tried to make it happy but I'm not sure if it's exactly happy, but it IS short and sweet. Hopefully not too sweet, but we'll see. Yes, it is a drabble, because it's not quite long enough to be a proper one-shot. So sue me.

Disclaimer – Don't own, wish I did, enough said.

-

Mokona has always been able to sense things about people that maybe people don't want Mokona to sense. It's one of Mokona's 108 Secret techniques. Mokona doesn't mind this sensing. It's just sometimes only slightly hard to keep Mokona's mouth shut. Mokona doesn't usually like to talk about his sensing. Mokona just likes to do something to help whatever's wrong.

But Mokona can't help but worry over these people… and Mokona wishes it wasn't so hard to talk about it with his friends. Yet Mokona also knows this: some people prefer to hide their hurts and try to heal alone. And Mokona's friends carry their sadnesses by themselves.

Mokona senses it as shadows – in Syaoran, which Mokona thinks is because of Sakura; and in Kurogane, and in Fai – but Mokona doesn't even have a guess as to what it is that makes Fai sad, or Kurogane sad. Mokona wishes they would say. Mokona wishes they would trust him. It's not right. Mokona wants to help them!

So Mokona does his best. As best as Mokona can do without knowing what hurts. Sakura helps Mokona – I think she can sense it a bit too. Mokona tries to keep everyone's spirits up, and Sakura makes them smile. We both do our best!

When everyone first came to Yuko's shop, Mokona heard the wishes of everyone Mokona travels with now. Mokona just thought it was a chance to have fun with new friends when Yuko made Mokona go with them, but now Mokona has a wish too. It's hard to say, but easy to picture. Like a dream. Mokona has dreams, lots of them and very vivid, but Mokona can never describe them afterwards.

Mokona sees a green place under the trees, with a blue, blue, sunny, open sky arcing overhead. It is spring, moving into summer, and the cherry blossoms are falling like snow from the branches overhead. Sakura reaches up to catch one, and as she brings it down Syaoran clasps his hand over hers, cupping it gently between their palms, safe. There is peace in his eyes now. The force that drives him is at rest, for once.

Smiling – a real, true, warm smile – Fai drops crowns of flowers on everyone's heads, laughing at their surprise. Sakura giggles when it goes down over her eyes, and Fai pats her head affectionately. The hidden watchfulness, the shadow in his eyes, the guarded element in his smile – they're gone. His eyes are the same clear, joyful, windswept blue as the endless sky above.

Kurogane brushes his crown aside and glares – half-heartedly – at Fai. He no longer seems to hold a grudge against the world, even against Fai, although he certainly would have a right to be mad since Fai just dropped pink flowers on his head. Whatever dwelled in his heart, lurking and gnawing there in the darkness is gone, robbed of all its power.

Sakura gets the flowers out of her eyes and smiles at us, and the warmth is like the sun.

And Mokona, too, is happy, because everyone has found a way to cast aside their sadness, and be free.


	2. Love

A/N – OK, so I got sucked into the drabble community. Um, welcome to me? I decided to make Dream of Smiles a series of drabbles focused mainly on – well – memories/dreams of smiles. Go figure. And I only decided this because I was sitting in my room randomly trying out a piece of fluffy cuteness, and I looked at it and saw a vague connection to that title.

And as warning for any pairings I may or may not do - no shonen-ai. I figure there's enough of those on here without me feeling the need to add to it, which I don't. Pairings will be mostly S/S, K/T, F/C(F)… (explain about that last one later…) You know, that kind of thing.

So. Now that the explanation is over, on to the second drabble!

Disclaimer – don't own, don't even know if it's worth it to keep saying it. It should be obvious.

-

The princess was six, small, with a rounded, sweet face, bright, almost mischievous eyes, and a smile that seemed to add warmth to the room the moment she walked in.

"When you join the princess' personal guard, you will be expected to watch her all day, every day, and to protect her with your life, if need be," the captain was saying. His voice said that he clearly doubted that a scruffy kid like him could possibly up to the responsibility of such a job, but the boy was used to people underestimating him, generally to their eventual chagrin.

He knew they'd already hired a couple of thirteen-year-olds in the hopes of making it a little easier on the princess, the only child in a palace full of adults. He'd even seen those kids training in the yard before he'd come inside to meet her. He couldn't say that he had more faith in the abilities they'd shown than he did in his own.

So he said nothing, merely looked past the guard at the girl who had just walked into the room.

The captain, noticing his shift in attention, turned, and seemed startled to see who was there. "Ah, Princess Tomoyo! I was just about to send for you. May I introduce you to Kurogane…" He sounded like he was searching for a last name, or hoping that the boy would provide one, but Kurogane continued to say nothing, and the captain finally just had to conclude, a little lamely, "He's been trained as a ninja, and he'll be joining your personal guard starting tomorrow."

Tomoyo regarded him gravely for a moment, and suddenly Kurogane was aware of an acute case of self-consciousness. He scuffed at the floor with one worn sandal, aware of what an odd figure he must cut next to this neat little child, in his travel-stained clothes, with bruises fading to yellow and green and with a still-healing wound visible at his neck, and eyes the colour of blood.

She walked up to him, completely unconcerned, and smiled warmly up at him. "Are you really a ninja? Where did you come from? Do you want to be my friend?"

"Princess!" The captain of the palace guard seemed quite scandalized. "As a guard, Kurogane-kun is here to _work_, not to be a friend."

"Yes, sir." Tomoyo rose on tiptoe and whispered conspiratorially in Kurogane's ear. "You can be my guard on special days, but I still want you to be my friend and play with me sometimes, OK? None of the others ever wants to."

"Yes, Princess," Kurogane said gruffly, under the impression that he'd been issued some sort of order.

She wrinkled her nose at him, then turned to the captain and said, "I want to show Kurogane-kun around now."

"Go on, Tomoyo-hime," the guard said with an almost affectionate smile. "I suppose if he is to live here he ought to know where things are."

"Come on!" She grabbed the young ninja by the hand and led him out of the room. More than a little bemused, Kurogane followed.

She hadn't been afraid. So many people flinched upon seeing him. He'd been chased out of more villages than he could count on his way here when they'd seen his red eyes – but this girl had smiled warmly up at him, and asked, "Do you want to be my friend?"

Tomoyo chattered away to him as though they'd known each other for years, tugging him eagerly from room to room, and the young ninja felt the wariness that had followed him ever since that dark night when his home had been destroyed slowly melt away.

He was ten and a half, a misfit, an orphan, and though he didn't understand it, he'd just fallen hopelessly in love.


	3. Sink

A/N - The snow was falling in feathery slo-mo. I was reading Tsubasa translations. Enough said. I write in moods as much as with plot-bunnies. This one is a different twist on the Dream of Smiles theme. It's there, it's just… more melancholy. And I intro a couple things that I believe that most of you will look at me and go 'WTF!" when you read it. I got the one idea from my friend and fellow fanfic writer, Erenriel the Elven Canuck.

Oh yes, and deep apologies to everyone for the former chapter's un-canon-ness. Unfortunately I am stuck reading the English translations as Del Ray puts 'em out, and until mysticdawn5 kindly sent me a link for translations and scans, I didn't know anything that happened past about chapter 80. Now I am a spoiler freak. Thank you Erenriel and mysticdawn5.

…. Anyways, I hope you enjoy. This is probably even more uncanon, but as far as I know no one can bug me about this one.

Disclaimer - …still don't own.

-

Down on the flats, snow falls like tiny feathers dropping from on high, kissing the frozen ground. It's the kiss of the longest sleep, the one the widow gives to her husband as he lies still and cold in his coffin. The snow is a shroud for the land, hiding damaged features and the maps of pain on its surface from unkind eyes. Maybe the snow will heal the land. I don't know. But I probably won't be around to see it happen.

The snow swirls in the faint breeze from the north as it approaches the city. When the wind is right, the crystalline dragon wings that arc over the buildings like a protective shield sing, a low wordless melody that changes with the wind. Most nights I hear it as I lie there alone in the echoing palace. I try not to listen too hard. It mingles with the wind, rushing and sighing around the palace in gossamer threads of sound. I bury my head under my blankets and try not to notice that it sounds like a chorus of ghostly voices. There are enough ghosts here.

I walk the halls in the daytime, and in the pale sunlight slanting down from the high windows I see the shadows of the people who used to walk here. Vague faces, even vaguer wisps of murmured conversation, and then once again they are gone. But I know _those_ aren't real… most of the time.

I walk the halls and conjure up memories. Not in the literal sense, although I could, if I wanted to. I don't.

There the old king would walk, slow and stately as he headed down the stairs to face another day. The huge fireplace there was where my prince, Ashura, would lie before like a sleek ebony cat, dreaming and working. There the two of us would run down the corridor, dodging and laughing as we raced each other into the mages' quarters and skidded to a stop under the disapproving eye of the Royal Wizard. In the deep eye of a window, the princess - my princess - Freya would sit, knees drawn up to her chest, bone-white hair falling around her in silken angel wings, watching the comings and goings of the world outside.

I know where my princess used to run down the upper walkways, giving chase or being pursued by her half-brother. If I look closely out of the corners of my eyes, I can almost catch a glimpse of Freya's sometimes solemn, sometimes sparkling eyes watching me from a balcony. I know the spot in the western wing where she would go to be alone; when she was younger, she would play there with her invisible friend, a girl she called Chii. I was the only one who never laughed at her for that. I could not bear to break her smile.

I dream that I hear her laughing delightedly at some joke or prank, then wake to have it fade away with the night. I dream that she comes and sits by my side sometimes, that she curls up in her favourite position, and we talk. Sometimes in the dream we don't say anything, because words are not needed. One night I reached out to her, so sure in that moment that she was real, that everything that had happened was nothing more than a dream within a dream, that when I took her hand it would curl around mine, warm and alive. She dissipated like smoke into the shadows.

I never tried it again.

I try not to dream of Ashura. All I ever see is the fear and the hate in his eyes that I saw the night I was forced to seal him. I never dream of how it used to be, when we were friends.

There. There. You can still see the darkened spot on the otherwise pure, cold marble where she lay… dying.

I know I'm lonely. Of course I am. At nights the emptiness stretches wide, wider, widest, filling with the darkness and an insidious fear. The kind of fear you feel when you wake at night… and the house is still… but your door has just swung open on its own. You know it must be a draft, but the fear is still there. Or when you're alone in the house, and you've just heard a noise that you know you did not make.

I know I'm angry, angry that this had to happen; angry at myself for not seeing the wrongness that I should have seen. Angry because all I could do when it all went down was watch, unable to move. Angry because it's partly my fault.

I don't think I'm mad, but I might be; and if I'm not, it's probably only a matter of time.

There was light here, once. When the place was full of people, day and night. When at times I would have given anything for a moment alone.

Now the only light here is what I carry with me, a soft, all-purpose magic glow that shows me that, still, nothing has changed. And every day, that light seems a little less bright, seems to illuminate a little less space. Now, I'd give everything I have just to have someone to talk to.

But every day, I'm still alone.


	4. Maybe

**Maybe**

A/N- I was hit with the idea for this what-if type fic out of the blue, and it was so damn loveable - if admittedly impossible - that I picked up my pen and immediately started writing it. It's under 'General', because there's no genre labeled 'Complete and Utter Cuteness'. It is also with Dream of Smiles for reasons that should become obvious later. Plus, I needed to update. This is slightly longer than the others, but I do hope it is still enjoyable. Oh, how I _wish_ this would actually happen at some point in the manga… even though, as I've said, it's… highly unlikely? Yeah, let's go with that. But oh, how I wish….

Don't kill me, I know this is probably wildly inaccurate, but sometimes I get these urges to write something unlikely.

(No pairings stated, some mild, mild KxT. Also had to make up… someone's… name. Which pisses me off, because I want to know what it _really_ is. Not that anyone does, I think. So sorry.)

Disclaimer - Don't own, would probably screw it up if I did.

-

For a moment there was the throne-room, silent, ornate, empty but for a lone black-haired girl in a complicated purple and white kimono who sat there, neat, composed… waiting, waiting with the patient, expectant air of one who knows with certainty that _this_ would happen and that it was only a matter of waiting quietly for this inevitable thing to occur. Looking at her, one would never have guessed that she had waited like this, every day at the same time for three solid hours, for a week and a half - with no results.

And in the next the very material of space and time seemed to bend in the most eye-wrenching way possible, and like a droplet of water - or, the way it stretched down as though the ceiling was melting, perhaps a giant inter-dimensional loogie - it dropped, stretched, and broke, releasing from its innards a group of astonished people.

They were astonished, because the moment they could see where they had landed, the tall, black-clothed ninja had stood abruptly, face stunned beyond all belief, and said, "_Tomoyo-hime!_"

And then they knew where they were.

The girl smiled, rose gracefully to her feet. "I dreamt you would be returning today, Kurogane." There was no one there to mention that her dream had been specific only to the time of day and the approximate time of the month, not the precise day. And there was no need to tell him that she had been waiting like this for eleven days. She walked with measured, dignified stride over to the group. "Welcome home. And welcome, also, to the friends that you are traveling with."

Then, losing all trace of her dignified posture, she flung her arms tightly around her ninja. "I missed you so much! I'm so glad that you were able to return safely!" she said with all the warmth and glad honesty of a child, or a young girl to her beau.

Someone giggled - probably Fai, Kurogane thought furiously, turning bright red. He had been planning a long and furious rant about how stupid it was to send off your strongest ninja, leaving yourself unprotected - but in the face of this sort of welcome, and his companions' reactions, he decided it was best not to say it at all.

Kurogane found himself sputtering. "Get off me. Where's your dignity, Tomoyo? If you were going to miss me that much, then why in the world did you send me away in the first place? What the hell has been going on? Who took over in my place? Soma? She better have done a good job!"

"Oh!" Tomoyo's eyes danced as she released Kurogane, and she covered her impish smile with one hand. "Oh, yes, that's right - you were gone when we gained our newest ninja. Soma's not Lead Ninja - she resigned when he came in and showed us what he could do. He's simply marvelous, Kurogane. I couldn't be happier to have found such a good replacement for you. In fact, I'm not entirely sure that I want to give him up. I shall have to introduce the two of you and let you work out who gets the position together."

"What?" Kurogane's eye started to twitch. "You mean, you don't even need me any more?"

"Poor Kurogane!" Mokona cried, leaping onto the ninja's head and hugging him. "He's not wanted!"

"Shut up!"

"Well, no, Kurogane. It's not that you're not wanted." Tomoyo smiled sweetly. "It's simply that there are pros and cons for both sides of the issue. For example - our current Lead Ninja is an older man. His age counts against him, but his experience, wit and wisdom does not. And he has a diplomacy that you often lack, Kurogane. In addition, he is left-handed, which has never failed to throw his opponents off. Unfortunately, the reason he is left-handed is a disability - he lacks a right.

"Whereas you, Kurogane - you are stronger than he, I think, and you yourself are very experienced, very observant - but you still let your anger control you, you have always had a problem with giving mercy… and you have a tendency to be far too blunt. But you are always as determined as a boulder rolling down a hill. And, I am fond of you. We have known each other since we were young, have we not? I know how to deal with you. In my eyes, you are on equal footing with him. That is why I will leave it up to you two to decide. Soma?" she called.

A familiar person entered the throne room. "Princess?" Soma asked, bowing… then drawing in a sharp breath and stepping back as she saw who else was there. "Kurogane!"

"Oy," Kurogane said, sounding annoyed that she sounded so surprised that he should have returned.

"Soma, will you go and find Kameda-san and tell him that his presence is required in the throne room?

"Yes, Princess." Soma's eyes went again to Kurogane. "He has been waiting to hear from you. I am sure he will come with all haste."

"Thank you, Soma."

"Kameda?" Kurogane frowned as Soma left the room. "Who the hell is _he?_"

"My Lead Ninja," Tomoyo said cheerfully. "Now, while we are waiting, won't you introduce me to your friends, Kurogane? They have been standing there so patiently for quite some time. I do not wish to be rude any longer."

"They're not my friends," muttered the ninja.

"Oh, never mind Kuro-pii's manners!" Fai waved a hand cheerily and dismissively. "If I might have the honour? This young man is Syaoran-kun… and our lovely princess goes by the name of Sakura-chan."

"Oh! How do you do?" Sakura smiled sweetly, in a friendly manner. Tomoyo smiled back, eyes shining.

"Oh! You're both so cute! Sakura-chan, your dress is beautiful. I do hope you will let me look at the patterns on it later. If you want, you may call me just Tomoyo-chan, or Tomoyo, seeing as we're both of royal status. I just know we'll be friends!"

"Oh! O- Of course!" Sakura blushed. Tomoyo smiled at her again, and then returned to Fai.

"And your name?"

"I am Fai D. Flowright," Fai added with an elegant bow.

"And Mokona!" shouted Mokona, bouncing up and down on Fai's shoulder. "Don't forget Mokona!"

"Oh, you're so cute!" Tomoyo smiled at wizard and white creature.

"It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Princess. Kuro-tan has told us so much about you." Fai grinned.

"Kuro…tan?" The princess blinked.

"_You bastard -_"

"He doesn't call me by my proper name, so I don't use his," Fai explained cheerfully. "Plus, it just makes him sound so much cuter! And Kuro-muu needs all the help he can get in that area."

"_I ought to kill you!_" snarled Kurogane, hand twitching towards Sohi.

"K - Kurogane-san!" squeaked Syaoran, almost breathlessly, eyes huge.

"Kyaaa!" cried Mokona, diving into Fai's hood. "Scary!"

"Syaoran-kun? What's wrong?" Sakura's eyes were concerned as she regarded Syaoran. His gaze went past the others, to something else by the door. She followed it until it found the object of Syaoran's astonishment.

"Eheheh…" Fai backed off a step, smiling as though it was the world's best joke, even though he stood in the face of the ninja's glare of doom.

"Oh! Oh! Kurogane-san!" Sakura's cry startled them.

Tomoyo said sharply, "Kurogane. Mind your manners… we have a guest."

"It can wait… I want to kill this bastard first!"

"I thought I taught you better than that, Kurogane."

The voice was unfamiliar, harsh in this moment, unknown, but with a note of something very familiar in it, a note like…

"You've changed. But tell me… is it for the best?"

Kurogane froze. Fai, facing him, saw the stunned disbelief flashing across his face like lightning, a sudden, scared, awful sort of hope. The ninja's eyes widened, staring wildly into space, grew larger still. Fai could not keep some of his own look of shock off his face; such a look on the ninja was unbelievable. Syaoran would have recognized Kurogane's expression, however; not only was he wearing it himself, he had seen it before… in a memory.

Fai and Sakura didn't know that, of course, but they could see the newcomer, and that was enough to tell them why the ninja looked so stunned.

As tall as the black-cloaked ninja, Kameda was perhaps twenty-odd years older; the temples of his pitch-black hair had silvered slightly. Scarred, deeply tan, he wore light armour over a sleeveless shirt that showed off well-muscled arms, and the curling tattoo of what might have once been a dragon winding its way down his entire right arm. It was difficult to tell for sure now; that forearm was gone, the wounded end wrapped in neat bandages. The bandages seemed to indicate that unsightly scar tissue was concealed beneath, rather than a bleeding, fresh wound. Kameda's mouth was hard, but his eyes could not hide a certain dancing, mischievous joy that flickered deep in crimson depths.

It was impossible for any of them not to know who he must be.

Kurogane turned slowly away from Fai, as though trying to hold on to some mental hope, but fearing that it would be shattered completely if he dared to look. He stared at the other man, an impossible to read expression - complex, flickering - on his face… cracking the stony coldness behind his eyes.

The man stared back, one eyebrow partially raised. "Well?"

"Ch - Chichi-ue….?" Kurogane croaked at last.

Almost a smile. "Who else?"

"But -"

"But what?" Kameda's expression darkened. "I want no buts from you, Kurogane. You do not understand the anger you have kindled within me."

"I'm sorry -"

"Sorry? That's all you have to say?"

"Father -"

"No. No. I will not listen. No true son of _mine_ would ever do such a thing. For years and years, Kurogane, there was no word of you, no sign, and then suddenly you're known throughout Japan as the strongest ninja in the land? I headed out for Shirasaki castle, expecting to find you here, and then when I get here I find out that you're _gone._ You let yourself get sent away by Tomoyo-hime! That is my anger. You ungrateful little monkey!"

"Monkey!" Kurogane looked half-startled, half-insulted.

"Yes! Monkey!" Kameda folded his arms. "I've been looking and looking for you for ages - I thought you were dead - I finally think I've found you - and you're gone! Cursed! Once again out of my reach! Impatient tree-swinging creature! Why didn't you at least _wait_ for me?"

"Wait for -?" Kurogane blinked, suddenly realizing that Kameda's rant was actually just… teasing. But he could sense that some of it was also in deadly earnest. "I didn't have a goddamn choice!"

"He really didn't," Tomoyo added.

"Anyways, I thought you were _dead!_" Kurogane was turning red. "_You're_ angry? What the hell do you think I am? All these years I thought you were slain in Suwa, overcome and - and _eaten_ by some damn monster - I had to watch that thing swallow - and Ginryuu -"

"I know what you saw," Kameda said quietly, stepping forward slightly. "Tomoyo-hime told me everything that you told her."

"I don't get it," Fai whispered to Syaoran. "Do you know what they're talking about?"

"Fai-san, I'll explain later. I want to hear -"

There was a sudden easing of tension, but instead of anger, Kurogane's eyes were now unhappy and upset. "But if you made it - why didn't you come back, Father? Why?"

"I had little choice in the matter." Kameda's eyes were shadowed. "I was weak from loss of blood, and there were still monsters left that I could barely defend myself from. I took a sword from a dead man, tried to use it with my left, but I was clumsy and exhausted. It took… a long time to bandage my arm well enough to keep from bleeding to death. By the time I made it back to the village, it was too late.

"You were gone. Everything was destroyed, and you were gone."

"Father -" Kurogane hesitated, looking as though he wanted to step forward and go to this man who was remembering a past pain too harsh to contemplate for long.

Kameda's eyes were grave… sad. "I saw no bodies anywhere. I searched the area for days, looking for you, for your mother, for any sign of any survivors at all. Any that had survived had already left, bound for other villages, and I knew they would never be back. I could not blame them. The only bodies I found were those of the monsters who had destroyed Suwa, slain by powerful attacks that I knew must have come from you - but you were nowhere to be found. And I knew by the fact that the barrier had gone down that your mother was dead. Eventually I had to admit that my search was hopeless. That Suwa was dead… that I would likely never see my son again. That you were probably dead. That I had failed to keep the two I loved most safe."

Kurogane flinched… acutely reminded of his own failure. It had not been Kameda there when his mother had been murdered. If it had been, she would not have died; he was sure that Kameda would have found a way to protect her, to protect the villagers.

But it had not been Kameda who had been there. It had been Kurogane, and he had been helpless to stop any of it.

It wasn't Kameda who should be feeling guilty.

The others could only stare as Kurogane stepped forward, something in his eyes blurring, softening, changing his ingrained harsh expression into something that only Syaoran truly recognized. "Father," he said. His voice cracked ever so slightly, but that sign of weakness was stunning to the others. "Father. I never blamed you for what happened. I swear. Not ever."

Kameda's eyes went very bright, but he was smiling. "Kurogane?…"

"Yeah?" The younger ninja seemed to have regained control of himself after that one frightening moment of uncertainty.

Kameda was extremely fast for someone on the verge of fifty.

"_I missed you so damn much!_" he cried, glomping on to Kurogane.

"_Eh_!"

Laughing almost maniacally, Kameda had managed to put Kurogane into something like a headlock, despite lacking one arm, and positioned so that he could joyfully continue his long-interrupted habit of noogieing his son until Kurogane yelled for mercy.

"Ow! Geez! Stop!" yelled Kurogane, struggling to escape, but failing miserably. He was turning bright red.

"No! I haven't gotten to do this for twelve whole years! I have a lot of catching up to do!" laughed his father, not letting up for a second.

"Fatheerrr….!"

"I'm not stopping until you get yourself free! Ha! You can't! I knew you'd let yourself go soft!"

"_Soft!_ Why, you -"

"Ahhh… I'm so glad this worked out so well," Tomoyo sighed, looking quite pleased with herself. "Do you understand what is going on now, Fai-san?"

"Ahahaha!" Fai's own grin was infectious and enormous. "Yes. I see it now."

"Mokona will help!" Mokona shouted, leaping towards father and son. No one could really decide who he meant to help, as he seemed to be impeding both equally.

Watching the pair trading insults and struggling together happily, Sakura was sure she had caught a glimpse of… a smile?… on the ninja's face.

"I'm so glad for Kurogane-san," Syaoran said. "This must all seem just like a dream. But this time… it's real."

Sakura's smile was almost a little wistful. "He's always seemed somehow… sad… hasn't he, Syaoran-kun? Like there was something that happened once, that changed him for life. But I felt the hope - the amazement - rising in him like spring when he heard Kameda-san's voice. And… joy. He still can't show it very well, but maybe someday… we'll get to see him really smile. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Syaoran thought of a boy, happy, energetic, a child with an infectiously sweet smile; a family, so strong and happy together; thought of a time when that was real. Looking at Kurogane now, reunited with the father he'd thought had been killed so long ago… he was finally beginning to see the traces of that time in him.

"Yes, Princess," he agreed with another smile. "Maybe someday; maybe soon."


	5. Flight

**Flight**

A/N - I don't know where this came from, but hopefully you enjoy this little vignette nonetheless. It's… um, cute? As in Fai discovering he has magic? Yeah… Inspired by that bit in the Season 2 ending sequence, only he's… quite a bit younger here. Eheheh…

Disclaimer - ye gods, get over it! I still don't own it.

-

The sky was windswept and clear, beautiful in this moment as the eye followed its arc over the curvature of the earth far below. The world dove outwards from this bird's eye view in the sky, in a series of mountains and cliffs and glittering ocean fading to pale blue in the distance. And cities, on the ground, and on the islands that floated in mid-air, like bright teeth pulled from the maw of the earth and suspended magically amongst the clouds. Temples, palaces, houses, glittering with tiny points of light that could be seen from miles and miles away.

"Be careful, don't stand too close to the edge!"

This was the bird's eye view entering the wide, bright and curious eyes of a child-citizen of one of these floating citadels.

At the place where the wall around the city crumbled, and the edge of the street fell into nothing, stood a group of three; a woman whose anxious, pale, beautiful face would have told any watcher that the tiny, slightly pudgy child with the windswept blond hair (who was indeed standing unnervingly close to the edge, staring down in wonder) was her son. The woman's hair spilled over her shoulders like a waterfall at sunset, down over her elegant blue overcoat edged with white and gold looping, curling knots. It was sunny, but up here the wind always had a chill bite. Mother and child had the same eyes, the same colour as the windswept sky.

The third member of the group was not even human, but a tiny, fluffy, kitten-like creature with even smaller and fluffier wings that the child clutched in his arms.

The boy looked up, his smile reassuring and dazzling. "It's OK, Mommy," he told her. "I won't fall." His eyes, big already, were even larger with amazement, and shining brightly. His small clear precise childish voice faded slightly as he turned back to the world below. "It's so _big_," he said. "I never knew that this was outside the city! Mommy, are those other cities down there? What are they like? Have you been there? Are they -"

Too late the woman saw her small son's feet wander out too far, step on a loose pile of pebbles. She sprang forward. "Look out -!" But she was not quick enough to catch the back of his coat, and the boy fell.

"_No!"_

"_Mommyyy_ - !" A panicked cry of fright from the child that mingled with the woman's own despairing cry; he was too far, she could not do anything without dooming herself, too -

She did not dare to look; her heart felt like it would burst from despair and self-loathing. Oh, god, her little boy was as good as dead -

"Oh!" A startled little noise from somewhere below. Her eyes flared open as her body moved forward, peering over the edge.

The boy was no longer falling.

It took a long moment for the woman to take this in; while her unbelieving eyes watched, her child's eyes opened, stared around at his new predicament, blinking in confused uncertainty.

His small fuzzy pet had followed him over the edge; now it swooped joyfully through the air around him like a hyperactive bird, nudging its human friend and making the boy roll head over heels in a complete somersault. The child's delighted laughter as he discovered that he could do more than simply make himself float in the air brought the woman back to her startled senses as the boy swooped upwards.

Now that he was closer, she could see the tell-tale twinings of magic around him, supporting him like wings. She didn't know whether to cry out in fear or in joy and relief. Her boy was safe. Her boy had magic. He'd saved himself from his fall for something perhaps more terrible, more unpredictable, but she could not make herself worry now with the fierce, fierce relief that was rapidly overcoming the apprehension she was feeling.

"Oh, my dear - Fai-kun - you're - Oh, my -!" she cried out, unable to stop her own smile as she felt the boy's own joy in his unexpected flight.

"It's OK, Mommy," he said reassuringly, rising higher and higher until she could barely see him against the sun. "I won't fall."


	6. Snow

**Snow**

A/N- Two months ago I asked Mystic Dawn if I could write this as an offshoot of one of her drabbles, entitled I believe 'Snowflakes and Kisses'... And only now am I getting around to typing it up? Oy vey. I should smack myself for taking so long to type up a drabble/one-shot/short type of thingy that I tend to write a lot of.

Anyways. Ahem. The idea that was so cute that I wanted to draw it, but couldn't, because I can't draw Kuro-chan worth beans. So I decided to write it instead, because I can at least do that half-decently...

The clock says one-thirty A.M... guess it's bed for me now...

Disclaimer - Shut up. I still do not own TRC.

-

Poised; the two shapes ahead of him are still, barely moving. Heart pounding with excitement and anticipation, he creeps a few steps closer...

The child pounces, cheering. "All right! It's snowing! Wake up! Father! Mother! It's _snowing!_"

"Arrrrgh..." the man groans, rolling over in bed and sending his kid sliding off of his stomach on to the floor. "'S far too early in th' mornin... G' back to sleep, son..."

"But Father! It's _snowing!_"

"Go back... to sleep... wait until breakfast... 'll... play with you then..." the man yawns.

"All_ right!_" Beaming at having extracted such a promise from his parent, the kid runs out of the room and hops back into his own bed. He can't sleep, though. How could one sleep with glorious snow piling up outside one's window? He watches it for a long time, until the falling flakes dizzy him as they float like myriad feathers to the ground; he's wrapped in a blanket for warmth, and wriggling with happy excitement as he plans everything he wants to do when the sun rises, until at last he tilts over, head nodding, and falls asleep once more...

"Wake up, sleepyhead! It snowed in the night! Wake up, son!"

_"Gah!_" The kid shoots awake, jolted by his father's cheerful yelling.

"All right!" cheers the father, swooping down on his son, locking him in a headlock, and noogieing him furiously.

"_Faaaaatheeerrrrrr!"_ the boy wails, struggling, albeit not very hard. "Stoppit!"

"Aw, come on, if you can't take _this_ little effort, what are you gonna do next time, tough guy?" the father teases.

The boy squirms free."I'm tough! Really!"

"Oh yeah?" the father grins.

"Yeah!"

"Hmmm... we'll see about that... when I take you down in the Ultimate Snowball Match War of _Doooom_!"

"... Father, you're weird."

"Them's fightin' words! Be outside in five to establish your base, or risk a sneak attack of the snow ninja!" The father jumps up and sweeps out of the room, chuckling madly. The snow brings out the child in him as much as it brings out the child in the child.

In spite of the rude awakening, the kid has regained all the energy and excitement that had woken in him at the sight of new snow. He is dressed and outside in four minutes, still chewing frantically on the last of the riceballs the cook had pressed into his hands with a smile as he sped out the door.

The sky is overcast, a dull, featureless grey-white stretch like well-forged steel. It glows from the force of the sunlight trying to fight its way through to the ground, and it's cold enough that the kid can see his breath puffing away from him in streamers of mist even against the bright white of the snow.

Snow sweeps to the ground in great wet feathery flakes, settling on the child's hair, on his shoulders. He looks up, stretching his arms wide, blinking as the snow hits and sticks to his eyelashes, taking this one moment to revel in the quiet, allowing the anticipation, the joy to settle over him as the snow does. And then he is off, throwing up sparkling trails of snow crystals as he dashes down the hill.

The snow silvers the trees with an etched frozen border, drawing out details normally invisible to the eye. The hills roll out from this spot like a white sea, up until they meet the mountain, growing then into craggy, snow-topped waves frozen forever by the still, chill air.

The kid spies his father attempting to hide behind a stand of bamboo; he's hard to miss, as it gives little cover at this time of the year. He pretends he does not see his father, though he keeps a corner of his eye fixed on him as he dashes by, into the trees, then cuts around behind, pausing only to scoop up a handful of snow. He's right behind his father now; the father, not seeing his son any more, seems to think it's safe to tail him with a double load of snowballs; the kid grins, and flings his own. It explodes across the father's back.

"Got you!" he crows happily, and takes off.

"Ohhh, you sneaky little pint-sized monkey -!"

The woods echo with the sound of the child's cheeky laughter.

It's uncertain, after awhile, whether father or child is winning, but it doesn't really matter. The snowball war degenerates at times into a series of sneak attacks and wrestling in the snow; that does not matter either, and why should it, as long as it's fun? The kid throws off his father long enough to catch him by surprise from on high as he pelts him from the third branch of a tree. When the child runs out of ammunition, he drops out of the tree and tackles his father. And then the father throws the boy into a snowbank.

The boy has always loved days like these, days spent almost exclusively with the father that he loves so dearly. Falling asleep on nights when the father does not return home, having ranged far afield throughout the province dispatching goblins, on those nights when he fears that this is the night the father will not come home ever again, is easier as he spreads out these bright, beautiful, happy memories in his mind. There. There. Silly... someone so vital, so energetic and so truly alive could not possibly die. Of course, it's impossible... people who are so loved never die. And he can sleep, somewhat comforted by his naive logic.

Their snowball war has brought them closer to the yard once more. It is growing shadowy, the silhouettes of the trees stretching acorss the snow-covered grass, criss-crossed with footprints.

The boy and his father are too busy yelling joyfully and avoiding each other's volleys to hear the quiet voice ordering people into position.

They do, however, hear the pleasant, gently amused female voice saying, "Fire."

Father and son are struck by a flurry of snowballs, seemingly from nowhere. The father dives into a snowbank, pulling his son down with him to avoid the relentless snow.

And then it stops. They pull themselves out of the snowbank, wet and bewildered, to stare, shocked, at their smiling assailant.

"_Mother?_" The boy's jaw drops.

"I win, I think," the mother says with a bright, sweet smile.

"No fair! You gathered up an entire miniature army!" complains the father, shaking himself vigourously to remove the snow that has gone down the back of his shirt.

The household servants, ladies all, giggle behind their hands at the sight of their lord shaking himself like a bedraggled dog.

"What's not fair is keeping us waiting to eat," she says with mock severity. "Come, the two of you should dry off. I'm sure you're hungry. And it's nearly dark."

"Is it?" The father squints at the sky. He does not seem taken aback by the fact that he has wasted a whole day fooling around in the snow. It is rare enough that he gets a chance to spend so much time with his son that does not have to be training. It is rare enough that the boy himself will allow him a day like this.

"Tomorrow?" the boy whispers to his father as they are urged down the corridor towards a hot bath, then a warm meal. His father merely grins; the smile glimmers in the dying light.

A good day; another bright memory frosted with the brilliance of snow.


End file.
